


Where did it all go wrong?

by QueenHades



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Depression, Insomnia, Look it's really really sad okay, Mention of Avengers, Mention of Howard and Maria, Mild mention of blood, Mild mention of injury, Nothing too terrible but i had to put it in there, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Has Issues, im sorry it's terrible, my first attempt at a fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHades/pseuds/QueenHades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was messed up. That, Tony knew. Looking back, as he lay on the floor in his Stark Tower workshop, Tony attempted to pinpoint where everything went wrong.  Where everything went to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where did it all go wrong?

He was messed up. That, Tony knew. Looking back, as he lay on the floor in his Stark Tower workshop, Tony attempted to pinpoint where everything went wrong. Where everything went to hell.  
Firstly, he blamed New York – The Event, not the place. Flying into a giant wormhole with a missile on your back, the fate of New York and its citizens on your shoulders, was enough to mess anyone up. To give them sleepless nights and panic attacks. It was enough to change them. Tony had changed, and people noticed. 

Pepper noticed sometimes, whenever she was home. Rhodey noticed sometimes, whenever he could be bothered to stop by. Even people who he barely ever saw such as Clint and Bruce noticed too.  
  
‘Tony, when did you last get some sleep?’  
‘Tony, you look ill.’  
‘You look like hell, Tony’  
‘Tony, are you okay?’  
‘Tony? Are you even listening to me?'

Tony. Tony. _Tony._

He brushed them off. He hid his hands when shook on his way to pick up the coffee pot. He pulled out his bed covers and threw them back on, giving the illusion that his bed had been slept in. He would hide behind a mask of narcissism and sarcasm. It didn’t work.  People noticed. Perhaps they didn’t really care, not enough to do anything about it at least.  
Everyone crept around him like he was a minefield, prepared to blow at one wrong word. The way people avoided talking about it - New York. The Event. - It put him on edge. The way they avoided It. So, he began avoiding them.

Tony locked himself away, physically and mentally. He spent days in his workshop, tinkering and sorting and working and just doing something. _Anything._ Whilst he worked, his memories and thoughts were buried, deep under papers and blueprints and complex equations.  
‘Think about equations, not invasions’ He said. He laughed at that for days.  
Working gave Tony a sense of purpose. It helped him to forget, not sleeping and not thinking and not remembering.

It worked for a while, but not even Tony Stark can stay awake forever. He would accidentally fall asleep in the workshop. Waking up flailing, the movement sent him sprawling onto the cold floor in an avalanche of tools and papers. He must have fallen asleep at his table, too exhausted to continue working. He had the imprint of a screwdriver on his cheek and there was a stool tipped on the floor where he fell off.

 _Is that how he got here?_  
  
His head pounded as he brushed his hand over his temple, it came away sticky with blood.  
  
_Huh, that’s not good._  
  
He’d fall asleep and they would come back. The memories in the form of nightmares; Twisted and wrong as they embedded themselves in this mind. As thick as smoke, and darker than coal, they curled and crept into his head, poisoning him. They choked him, dragging him down into the monolithic darkness kicking and fighting. He woke up screaming with the taste of ash on his tongue.

Pepper wasn’t there.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was Pepper. That was what went wrong.  
_No._  
No, it wasn’t Pepper, he couldn’t blame her. She was right. Pepper was always right. Right to leave when she did. Sick of eating meals alone and cancelled plans, she left. Tony didn’t blame her. If he could, he would have done the same. Walk out the door without a backwards glance, leaving behind the suffocating destructive mess that was Tony Stark.  
_Tony Stark. Tony Stark?_ His vision blurred as he cast his mind back further, searching and probing his mind for reasons and excuses, trying to remember in the hope it would help him to forget. A blurry mirage of images and memories flashed through his throbbing head like a freight train, careering wildly off the track, losing control.  
  
_Howard Stark. Father. His Father. Distant and harsh. Always pushing to be better. Work harder. Be a Stark. Stark._  
Maria Stark. Mother. Bitter and twisted. Lonely marriage. Jealous of Howard. His money. His success. His other girls. Plural.  
  
A laugh prised itself from Tony’s throat, a bitter, harsh sound which resembled a cry of a dying bird, rather than a sound of joy that a human would make.  
More memories surged forwards. Flickering and snapping like flames, licking the inside of his mind and burning him. Empting him.  
  
_Obadiah Stane. Obie. A smile like a razor and voice like gravel. He used to care. He never cared._  
_Steve Rogers. America’s golden boy. Sickeningly innocent and trusting. A puppet. The First Avenger. An Avenger.  
__Bruce Banner. Hulk. Smash. Silent like an unlit firecracker. Smart. Really smart. Smarter than Tony..._

_Tony? Tony._

_Tony Stark. Son to Howard Stark and Maria Stark. Tony Stark. Him. Liar. Guilty. Weak. Murderer. Destructive.  Useless. He was messed u–_ Oh gods, how the list could go on. He could spend days listing what was wrong with him.  
  
_Why not? You’ve got time. No one is coming. No one is here._  
  
How long had he been here? A day? A week? A month? What did it matter. No one was there. No one cared. With a dull ‘thunk’, Tony let his head fall back onto the concrete floor, sending a stab of pain through his head and low broken noise tumbling from his lips.  
  
“No one cares,” Tony whispered.  
Silence was the only reply.  
  
Silence.  Draped over the workshop like a thick, ugly blanket, disrupted by the whir of the Arc-Reactor. The thing keeping him alive. Oh, how he hated it. Tony had a sudden urge to tear it from his chest. Claw it out in a bloody lump with his bare hands. Let the shrapnel speed into his heart, little knives cutting and shredding and tearing him open from the inside. His hand slipped under his shirt, up to his chest, and his fingers traced the familiar metallic ridges absently.  
  
_It would be so easy._  
  
He felt his lips quirk upwards, painting an ugly twisted smirk on his face.  
He was messed up. That, Tony knew.  

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a distraction from my work, and eventually found it's way to be my first story ever posted online. How about that?
> 
> Thankyou for reading and drop me some Kudos or let me know what you thought in a comment!


End file.
